


Like This

by hallwayperson



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s07e19 Hollywood A.D., F/M, Post-Episode: s07e19 Hollywood A.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallwayperson/pseuds/hallwayperson
Summary: My first foray into writing smut - might be the last. Haven't decided yet! I just needed a challenge.It's written as an answer to this prompt: What did Mulder and Scully do with the bureau credit card at the end of Hollywood A.D.?My answer? They didn't do anything. (You'll have to read this to find out why)





	Like This

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into writing smut - might be the last. Haven't decided yet! I just needed a challenge.   
> It's written as an answer to this prompt: What did Mulder and Scully do with the bureau credit card at the end of Hollywood A.D.?
> 
> My answer? They didn't do anything. (You'll have to read this to find out why)

It would be wrong to say she hadn’t planned for something to happen. If that were true, she wouldn’t have picked out matching black, lacy underwear and she wouldn’t have worn that stupid dress. Still, this wasn’t quite what she had imagined, him in her hotel room, after they’d watched that god-awful movie that’s still playing on loop behind her eyelids, hours after it ended. They had looked on in disbelief at the embarrassing charade as it played out in front of them for everyone to see. Their lives, everything they had ever fought for, turned into a brainless comedy — hopefully one as quickly forgotten as it was written.

It isn’t that she can’t take being laughed at — that comes with the job, or the company that she’s in, really. No, what she hates is the fact that when the laughter fades, they still never talk about real things. Important things. They still haven’t talked about how she walked quietly to his bedroom a few nights ago to find him awake, wanting the very same thing as her. Seven years of courtship had ended quickly and silently, partners dancing a well-known waltz, brand new and yet right in every single imaginable way. But she hadn’t told him how it had made her feel. She hadn’t mentioned anything about it in the office the morning after. Nor had he. It was like it had never happened. It was just another thing added to her little library of small failures.

He had surprised her earlier though when he had reached for her hand to leave the movie set, guiding her outside, to where a nice car stood parked, ready to take them both away. He had wanted to drive them somewhere nice to watch the sun go down, he said, but when she asked him if that was _really_ what he wanted he had been quiet for some time before asking if she felt like going back to the hotel. Relieved about how simple it could be, she had nodded as a breathless _yes_ had slipped out of her lips, and he had turned the car around.

Driving back to the hotel, she knew that the movie didn’t have to ruin anything between them and didn’t have to make things awkward. So she decided to stick to the truth they both knew in their hearts — she carries him with her wherever she goes, and him her. She didn’t tell him though. This would be another thing left unsaid.

Knowing it was enough; there was no need to complicate this part of their lives too.

And that’s why she now finds herself lying in her bed, his eyes following her every move. It’s thrilling, she silently admits to herself, and she hopes he’ll take the next step as she spreads out her arms on the big bed.

His fingertips brush her feet lightly, barely, as they are too far away to reach properly when he stands up straight in front of her. He leans forward and reaches for her ankles to pull her closer to the foot of the bed, making her dress bunch up. He places each tiny foot on either side of his legs and she holds her breath, not wanting to speak. She almost can’t breathe in that outfit, it feels two sizes too small and she needs to move, but she doesn’t dare to. The seams of her gown are cutting into her sides as he stands there, looking at her like a lion ready to catch its prey, but it doesn’t scare her. It’s intoxicating having him look at her like that. She likes this side of him. She wants to go faster, the blood in her body rushing to her head, but she wants to savour every last second of it, to take stock of it.  

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice huskier and his eyes darker than usual. 

She wants to hold him close, to take his face in her hands but he’s too far away standing there at the foot of the bed when all she wants is for him to cover her like a warm blanket on a winter night. Instead she sends him a mild but assuring smile as she stretches out her fingers to meet his. As much as she wants this, needs this, she’s on edge. Their first and only time together had been a spontaneous thing, a quick decision made in the dark, and not something they had talked about afterwards. And here she is in front of him, bathed in the remaining evening light. Vulnerability hits her and she has to remind herself that she wants this. 

“Mulder, help me out of this dress, will you?”, she pleads with a voice she doesn’t recognize as her own. “I can’t breathe.”

She sits up as much as her dress allows her to. It’s all bunched up now, revealing her black lace panties, and she’s even more exposed now as she sits with a leg on either side of him. If Mulder notices her vulnerability or the pricey lingerie —or both— he doesn’t let her know. She reaches out for his belt aligned with her head but he gently stops her and smiles. Eyes meet as he takes out her hair band and tucks her hair behind her ears. His hands are on her neck, lightly caressing it all the way down to the zipper on her back. He’s gentle. He’s taking his time. Slowly, he zips down the garment, so carefully it makes her whole body shiver and she’s finally able to move. She leans into his hip where she rests her head and she cradles against him.

“Sit still,” he smirks, clearly aware of what he’s doing to her. She marvels at how he can already read her body as perfectly as he’s been able to read her mind for the past years. She still finds herself thankful for it at the end of every single day she spends with him.

She looks up at him again and the love she reads in his eyes makes her feel like she can breathe again. He leans down for a quick kiss but it’s over before it has even begun as he concentrates on her chest and pulls down the straps of her dress.

“Lie down,” he whispers, his lips dangerously close to her mouth.

She is usually so keen on daring him, on opposing him just for the thrill of it, but right now she’s too caught up in heat and emotions to do anything other than what she is told.

She knows he’s noticed the lace by now as his fingers trace the pattern out to her hip, leaving a hot trail on her already heated skin. She wants more and she can’t contain the sigh that escapes her lips as she shifts her body lightly. He must have taken it as a sign of her need for him and he gets a firm grip of the top of her dress to slide it down her body. He pulls, lifting her legs up, not letting go of them as he drops the gown on the floor. His gaze is as firm as his fingers on her skin.

Normally, she isn’t this quiet but she doesn’t feel the need to say anything. She knows what she needs to know, that he wants to be there as much as she wants to. Besides, she wouldn’t dare to burst the bubble of what seems like the only normal thing in her life right now – him sharing a hotel bed with her.

He delicately places her feet flat against his stomach, just below his chest, and he brushes her legs softly, from her ankles all the way up to her knees. She already feels like it’s not enough. And he continues, just barely touches her inner thighs with the tips of his fingers. Her eyes close shut and she holds her breath, but soon his name escapes her lips.

She feels vulnerable laying like this in the light in front of him. The need to feel him closer is too intense and she turns her head to the side as tears frustratingly start to form in her eyes. She wants to curse herself for ruining this perfect moment. She feels ridiculous really, only just now realizing how right everything can be when she lets it. Although she needs a moment she doesn’t want to pause, doesn’t want to think — she just wants to feel.

He lets go of her legs to gently trap them in between his knees. She senses him leaning down, hovering over her, and his face is so close to hers she can feel his uneven breathing on her neck.

“Look at me, Scully,” he pleads.

She turns her head but can’t bring herself to open her eyes as a single tear runs from cheek to ear.

“I love your smile,” he whispers against her skin, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. “I love that when you smile, it shows in your eyes too. I love how they seem to carry the weight of the world effortlessly. I love how they can guide me back home.”

She opens her eyes and the look on his face brings her back, back to where she wants to be.

“I love your strength and your stubbornness. But I love your patience even more. I love your softness. And I love your little feet,” he chuckles, and she does too.

“I love you,” he croaks. “And I love this black lace you’re wearing.”

He gives her a devilish grin and she pulls him down for a kiss, his lean body crushed against her like an anchor to a ship. He’s comforting and warm. He tears his lips away from hers and she groans, which makes him grin. He straddles her thighs and moves to get rid of his bow tie. Caught between his legs she can’t stop herself from frantically unbuttoning his shirt. He’s heavy on top of her but she doesn’t mind. It makes her feel invulnerable. She counts the layers of clothes between them, _1-2-3_ , curses the number, and she wonders if she feels as hot on him as he does on her. She wonders how she tastes on his lips. She wonders how he tastes too, eyeing the bulge straining against his pants. He throws the bow tie away like it has been nagging him all night and she tries to rid him of his shirt too but his arms get caught in his sleeves. She sits up in a remotely upright position, challenged by the weight of him keeping her down, and helps him remove it completely. He cups her breasts still covered by black, delicate lace and his thumbs trace circles, following the swell of them. She mimics him and his chest is warm but hard like concrete. She traces the lines on his upper body as he runs his hands down her sides. The nook of his neck, his collarbones, his chest, the hard muscles in his lower stomach. Impatiently her fingers find their way back to his belt but he catches her hands — again.

“Wait,” he says leaning so much forward she has to lie down.

This time she objects with a frustrated sigh, not wanting to listen, but he pins her wrists to the bed over her head.

“There’s time for all of it,” he smiles. “I… I  just want to do it right.”

”Mulder, I.. want… you,” she pants, not sure how much more of this she can take before she starts to beg and she is not one to.

Anticipation is getting the better of her but she doesn’t care anymore. Although she doesn’t want to degrade herself like that, she might make an exception just this once. After all, it’s Mulder. He smiles carefully and lets go of her wrists to get up and out of his pants. She turns her back on him to crawl to the head of the bed, moving slowly like a cat, hoping he’s watching. The deafening silence of the room is broken as a soft groan escapes his lips, and she knows he is indeed watching her. She turns around to see him staring at her, his eyes dark and dilated, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. She wants him, aches for him, right away, but she also wants this to last forever. She tries to get back to her level-headed self but fails in the best way possible as he stands there in front of her with wanting eyes. It doesn’t matter. She knows there will be more times. She sends him a smoldering look, the kind, she hopes, that says his presence is needed or she might lose her mind.

Always reading her mind, he hooks his thumbs inside his boxers and gets rid of them. He looks strong, powerful, as he stands there in all his glory. She has never seen him naked like this before. The first time was like a restless tempting dream, with no preamble, no over-thinking and no fear of consequences. But she had felt him. She had felt the size of him in her small hands as she had caressed him. She had felt the long heavenly strokes, almost too intense, as he had entered her fully. Yes. It’s all coming back to her now and desire overwhelms her. It’s breathtaking and perfect. An unbearable ache forms deep in her belly as she takes him in. She notices things she hadn’t before, the subtle hair on his chest, the little trail going from his navel to his cock, and she immediately wishes she could touch him. He is looking at her, almost like a pleading puppy and she knows his eyes won’t be pleading for much longer. His lean muscles are shadowing his whole body like a vast unknown country with peaks and valleys where she’d like to get lost. He is ready in front of her and the heat she feels between her thighs is too much.

“Your turn,” he says with a smile on his face as he gets closer.

“You won’t help me?” she counters, propped up on the bed. He crawls towards her.

“Is this for me?” he asks as he reaches for her underwear while getting closer, slightly parting her legs.

“It’s all for you,” she says, desire almost overpowering her and she’s sure she’s going to pass out. Slowly, he pulls the fabric down her legs, his eyes locked into hers.  

“I’ll keep them,” he smirks as he casts the underwear aside and his fingers find her center, making her close her legs around his hand in surprise. 

“Is this for me too?” he says, his fingers wet with her arousal.

Unable to speak, she nods, as she meets his lips with hers, sending another wave of warmth to where her thighs meet. Tongues tangle in an all-encompassing kiss, not meant to be stopped ever. His lips are soft as she’s crushed against him, demanding more and more. Kissing him feels so familiar and so right, and she knows there’s no other person for her than him. It’s always been him. He’ll be the one for the rest of her life.

He enters her with two fingers, making her gasp into his mouth. Somehow he knows, _God he knows_ , how to make her feel good. She can’t help but dig her nails into the lean muscles of his back as his fingers move in and out of her. The sound, the smell, his breath against her neck, it’s all making her too unfocused to do anything other than hold onto him and moan. He smiles, visibly enjoying her unraveling. She can feel herself come undone and she reaches for his hand to stop him.

“Not like this,” she pants as she tries to sit up. “I want you inside of me.”

She feels confident, almost feverish, as she reaches behind to take off her bra. He pulls her closer, cupping her breasts, his thumbs lightly brushing her aching nipples, still going slow.

“Lie down, Scully,” he says, his voice hoarse. He nuzzles her neck, placing soft kisses down to her collarbone, and she doesn’t want him to stop, which he thankfully doesn’t. He follows her down and keeps kissing her. From her neck, to her collarbone, his lips are merciless, and then his head dips down to her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth. This time he isn’t gentle and she cries out, pulling at his hair. He seems to enjoy it as he moves to the other breast, repeating his rough nibbling.

“Mulder,” she whines and takes his head in her hands. He looks up at her with his pleading eyes as his mouth leaves her sodden skin to rapidly turn cold. She wants him, wants him to cover all of her, to keep her warm, and summons him with a whisper. “I need you.”

He leans forward and she can feel his cock between her legs, his arms keeping him up to avoid crushing her.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers close to her ear, moving his hips and rubbing his cock against her center, coating himself up with her arousal.

“Yeah,” she breathes, shifting her hips to meet him with every move. “I want you.”

“What if I want to go _really_ slow, Scully?”, he whispers even closer to her ear, making a few strands tickle her neck, and it feels like she’s going mad.

“Please, Mulder…”, she pants as she tries to reach down between them but again, he pins her wrists to the headboard.

He’s controlling but gentle, and as he locks his lips to hers, one of his hand takes the path she was about to take herself. He takes hold of himself, and strokes his length, making the head of his cock brush her clit with every move.

“Like this?”, he asks as he guides himself inside her in one long stroke and she has to bite her lip to contain the moan ready to escape. He pulls out of her agonizingly slow, inch by inch, before entering her again even slower.

“Jesus,” she cries out, as he lets go of her wrists. She reaches for the back of his neck, lightly caressing it.

“No, it’s just me,” he grins, as he continues his slow pace.

“Mulder?” she says in a serious tone.

“Yeah?”, he responds, meeting her piercing eyes.

“Stop talking, and fu…” she hisses, going silent before she can say something bad. She is more agitated than intended when she meets a thrust with her hips. “Focus…”

And he does. Still inside of her, he lifts her and pushes her against the headboard.

“Like this,” he says, not asking, as he thrusts into her again and again, making the headboard squeak with his frantic movements.

She doesn’t answer. She can’t. He reaches down between them to where they are connected and it’s more than she can handle. His fingers are relentlessly circling her clit and it’s so good it feels like the muscles in her thighs are dissolving. He knows exactly where to touch her to make her come, to make her moan and produce sounds she didn’t even know she had in herself, to make her feel complete, if only for a fleeting moment. _God, it’s only the second time and he knows. So damn well._

Her eyes connect with his, full of lust and adoration, and it’s too much. She comes hard, a desperate cry on her lips and her inner walls clenching around him. He feels warm and wet inside of her as he follows her into oblivion. He falls back down, taking her with him and she collapses on top of him. They are panting in unison and he reaches up to remove a few sweaty strands of hair from her neck.

“Like this,” she pants, acknowledging how right and perfect this all was.

“I’m glad that, for once, you agree with me on something,” he quips, and she giggles, feeling more carefree than ever.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she says with a playful swat and a smile. The sound of his laughter is music to her ears.

“Scully,” he starts, but she cuts him short.   
  
“I know…” she assures simply. “I know… I love you too Mulder.”


End file.
